whisky on ice
by Lance Corporal Chanyeol
Summary: Yuuri's last customer for the night is a handsome foreigner who seems to take an interest in him. The catch? Well, there's a gold band.


He stares down the neck of an empty bottle of wine much like how he'd stare down the barrel of a gun, willing the incessant _tick! tock!_ of the clock behind him to either pick up its pace or just stop bugging him completely. He wonders, not for the first time that night, what forces on earth had been strong enough to push him into agreeing to take over Minako's bar for the weekends and decides, also not for the first time that night, that it had been the promise of free pork cutlet bowls for a whole week.

He's mulling over the offer and the points to support the argument that it had been, in fact, a good decision to take it when he finally hears it: the chime of the door opening. The man who walks in is not his first customer, but he knows for a fact that he's going to be the last for the day.

His gaze flickers over the shock of silver hair peeking out from underneath the beanie placed over his patron's head, his eyebrow quirking up when a set of blue eyes look up and meet his.

So, Yuuri's last customer is a foreigner, and an impossibly attractive one at that. The way the man saunters towards the bar table reminds him of a dancer, lithe and elegant on his feet yet undeniably expressive with the rest of his body. Once he's seated, the foreigner smiles up at him and gestures towards the array of alcohol perfectly arranged behind him.

"Whiskey, please." It's said in English but with an accent tinged with something that makes his stomach flutter. If the patron notices the blush that develops on Yuuri's cheeks, he doesn't react. "You have a very nice place."

Yuuri thinks about what to say in response, suddenly feeling embarrassed about his now seemingly inadequate skills at communicating using a foreign language. He shakes his head, hoping that the man would drop it, but then he finds himself sighing in defeat when he only gets a questioning look in return. "Not very good at English," he says, pointing to himself and giving the stranger a sheepish smile.

He feels his insides warm up at the answering smile that he gets from the man, seeing a flash of a pink tongue darting between pearly white teeth. "So am I, so am I."

Yuuri smiles back, handing the customer his drink. For a lack of a better thing to do, he grabs a wet rag and wipes down the table, preparing himself to close down the bar once the silver-haired man finishes his drink.

" _Please_ ," the man suddenly says, startling Yuuri with his sudden use of the Japanese language. He says something in broken Japanese that Yuuri barely understands but the man's hand gesturing to the glass he has sitting in front of him aids their bumpy attempt at discourse.

 _Let me buy you a drink_ is what he thinks the man is trying to tell him, his perfect smile and his bright blue eyes speaking things to Yuuri that even the annoying language barrier between them couldn't hinder. He relents, tossing away the wet rag and pouring himself a drink before walking around the table to occupy the seat next to the foreigner. It's when he's settled down that something shiny catches his eyes, a simple gold band wrapped around a slender finger. Yuuri wants to tell himself that he's absolutely not disappointed but he ends up gulping down the lie with a mouthful of whiskey.

"You are married," he declares, much to the visible surprise of the other person. The man's cheeks flushes to a beautiful red, the discoloration making the disappointment in Yuuri's stomach weigh much heavier than it already is and his free hand clenches into a fist by his side. He tries to reason that it hadn't been him asking strangers if he could buy them a drink.

 _It's just a drink_ , the man says, barely comprehensible. _Just some fun for a lonely night._

Yuuri doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about that, much less what to say in response, so he downs the rest of his drink and pours himself another. He's halfway done with his new drink when he feels a hand encircle his wrist.

"Slow down," the man says, switching back to English. "Let's talk." He lets go of Yuuri's wrist but trails a finger down his arm, the movements slow and gentle enough to cause a shiver to run down Yuuri's spine.

By the looks of it, this man didn't want to just talk and Yuuri couldn't deny that whatever he wants, Yuuri probably wants it too. Still, his eyes flick over to the gold band.

"It is just a ring," the man says, making a show of boldly taking off the ring and hiding it somewhere underneath his coat. Despite the message that his actions send, his eyes betray an apology.

Yuuri swallows around the lump that has formed in his throat, staring down at the now bare finger currently tracing circles on his thighs. He's nodding his head, not sure if there had even been a question to answer but answering still, and then the man's leaning in.

"Lead the way," the man says, hot breath tickling the skin on Yuuri's face.

Yuuri doesn't know how he does it, but he's able to lead the man to his house without passing out on the way. It's only when they're inside Yuuri's room that the man speaks again.

"What a classic, tiny room," he says, causing Yuuri's mouth to pull into a smile and his stomach to erupt into a myriad of butterflies. The man sits down on the bed and pats the spot beside him. "Come, sit here."

It gives Yuuri pause, the image of the man sitting on his bed shredding light to what he's about to do; he's about to sleep with a married stranger whose name he doesn't even know. The idea both thrills and bothers him but he doesn't have half the mind to ponder which emotion to act on because the stranger is smiling an encouragement at him and _holy shit he looks so beautiful it hurts._

They sit side by side on the edge of the bed, the stranger going back to tracing little patterns on Yuuri's skin. Occasionally, he would lean in to place a kiss on Yuuri's neck, and as much as he was enjoying the attention, Yuuri wanted more.

"Kiss… me?" Unintentionally, it comes out as a question and he can't help the blush that immediately erupts beneath the surface of his exposed skin. "If you want."

The man chuckles, bringing up both hands to cradle Yuuri's face. "You are adorable."

The kiss is nothing more than a tentative peck upon another, and another, and Yuuri loves it but he wants so much more. When the man tries to pull away after another quick kiss, Yuuri's hands shoot out, his fingers finding their way easily through silver locks to hold the man in place.

"More," he breathes out, swallowing the foreigner's laugh with eager presses of his lips. In the middle of a heated kiss, he's lifted up into the man's arms then promptly dropped onto his back in the middle of the bed. Laughter is exchanged between them and Yuuri feels that his stomach turning into mush is caused by something other than his nerves.

Clothes are discarded in between kisses, both of them taking their time admiring the other's body. Yuuri feels self-conscious, knowing that his own body couldn't compare to what he's seeing, his hands skimming over a taut torso and ripples of tight muscles.

But he's not just about to wallow in self-doubt, not when the stranger is worshiping his neck with bites and kisses, and definitely not when he's hearing the word _beautiful_ uttered against his skin repeatedly. He feels embarrassingly close to coming by the time the man's hand snakes down between them to take hold of Yuuri's erection.

Yuuri doesn't even try to contain the endless stream of moans and curse words that leave his mouth, the obscenities doubling in intensity once the foreign man starts loosening him up with his fingers. He's on the verge of coming when he pushes the man away, reversing their positions so he's the one on top. He picks up the condom lying conveniently on the bedside table and rolls it onto the foreign man's length.

"I want to come while you're inside me," Yuuri says, uncaring of the possibility that the other person wouldn't understand a thing he's saying. Going by the man's reaction though, he seems well acquainted enough with the Japanese language, nodding his head and helping Yuuri sink down on his member.

Yuuri barely lets himself adjust to the intrusion, grinding down and circling his hips to stimulate the best results for the two of them. He tries to take it slow, starting with a slow pace, but the part of him that wants to come so badly trumps over his patience. He picks up an erratic pace that has the foreign man gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks.

"Yuu—," the man starts to say but is able to clamp his mouth shut at the last moment. Yuuri would have laughed if he wasn't so desperate for release. When he comes, he clenches around the man until he feels him throbbing out his own release.

He slumps down just as arms wrap around him, feeling that bubble of laughter erupting in his chest again.

"Sorry, I completely forgot to take the ring off," Victor says, his own laugh mingling with Yuuri's. "And I almost said your name. Sorry."

"That's fine," Yuuri slurs, the exhaustion settling in. He barely lifts his head to place a kiss on his partner's cheek. "You were perfect."

There's another chuckle. "Thanks, you too. By the way, you still have work tomorrow," Victor reminds him, a hand ghosting down his exposed back.

He wonders, not for the first time that week, what forces on earth had been strong enough to push him into agreeing to take over Minako's bar for the weekends and decides, also not for the first time that week, that it had been Victor's promise of a fun night of role-playing to spice things up.

Yuuri smiles, not bothering to mull over the offer, knowing that it had definitely been worth it.


End file.
